Soul
by UnfathomableFandoms
Summary: After his murder, Aaron's soul is trapped, still connected to Call. Meanwhile, Alex's powers, and his plans, grow.
1. Chapter 1

Alexander Strike enjoyed power.

Aaron never knew what he had. Silly boy. Power in spades, a never-ending reservoir, never to be used up. True, he and his waste of a counterweight were drained after using their powers; but only because they didn't know how to use them. They didn't _deserve_ them.

Alex wouldn't return to Joseph yet. He'd wait for him to come running, begging for his newfound power. _He_ was the master. _He_ was the Enemy of Death.

Yet death itself followed in his wake, like a lost puppy. Aaron had always given Call the puppy eyes. It was sickening. Now he could feel those eyes watching him, but with far less adoration, gnawing on his nerves - and his conscience. While he own harbored no guilt for killing Aaron, (his only regret was not taking Call along,) empty rooms echoed with words he couldn't catch. He had once controlled air, made it whisper at his whim and make illusions from nothing, now he couldn't help but feel that he was the one being tricked.

He could see it in the corner of his eye sometimes - hair once light turned dark, gray skin, but pupils like white light. And a _color_ somewhere too, that his mind could not perceive.

Alex was tending to the wounds that beastly wolf had given him when the sound solidified into words, and the light manifested into something almost whole.

" _Let me leave."_ His voice came as though through a conch shell, flimsy but echoing. Aaron's spectral form flickered, coming almost completely apart where the Alkahest had been. Just a black hole, like chaos, a rift torn in what was left of his soul. His handsome face was set somewhere between agony and dead indifference.

Aaron's soul was a beautiful thing to behold.

And Alex hated it.

"I'm not keeping you here," he spat.

"You took my magic, you took my life, and now my soul has nowhere to go."

Alex grinned, conjuring chaos. Aaron went static for a moment. "You mean this magic? This _power?_ You were wasting it."

"You dddddddon't deserrrrrrvve thhat!"

"No, I'm afraid it was you and your pitiful little boyfriend who didn't deserve it. Now, I think I do have somewhere for your soul to go."

He expanded his ball of chaos, letting it soak hungrily into the air. Aaron faded only to a faint light again.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Alex asked the phantom light before him. A pitiful shrieking noise was its only response.

Suddenly, his magic sprung free, spiraling out of control and savagely hunting for anything to devour. Alex let out a shout- why couldn't he control his own magic? The wall behind him crumbled, the ceiling shifted, cracks spreading. The building would collapse if he didn't control it.

"Come back to me!" He ordered it. Reluctantly, it cycloned back towards him and faded.

Breathing heavily, he fled the building as it groaned behind him. He hid behind the old shed where the Chaos-Ridden were once kept as a plume of dust and rubble exploded behind him. Aaron was nowhere to be seen. Alex let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

"You don't know what you're doing."

Alex's eyes snapped open. Lo and behold, like a deranged angel in Bethlehem; Aaron had manifested again, perhaps stronger than before. His indistinct, shadowy features were twisted into something that almost resembled a smirk. Alex's eyes still wouldn't quite focus on him. Always indistinct, fuzzy, like a bad negative.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"You can't touch a soul. Maybe because you don't have one of your own." Aaron's smirk deepened, looking more and more like a grisly impression of a skull.

Alex growled. "Just leave! Go haunt your boyfriend or something, I don't want you here!"

Aaron's features settled back into a melancholy frown. "I've always been good at leaving…"

"Stop with the pity party!"

"My soul is attached to Call, but the Alkahest, I think it's keeping me here."

"Nice try. I'm not throwing out my most powerful weapon."

"You got the power you wanted," Aaron's voice snapped. "Now _you're_ a weapon. Besides, if you kill Call with it, then you'll have _both_ of us haunting you. Call never shuts up when he's _alive,"_ Aaron said, and even dead, Alex could hear the admiration in his distant voice.

"And neither do you now." Alex scowled. "Fine. I'll destroy it."

Aaron dissipated, but the feeling of being watched didn't. Not until the Alkahest did. Eaten, by the magic it was meant to destroy, the magic he had stolen from its victim.

Alex had all the power he needed to kill Call without it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

" **I would know him in death, at the end of the world. "**

 _-Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles_

* * *

 **Call**

Call had perfected exactly two arts: staring at walls, and self-loathing. He had become a prodigy at combining them into one. There wasn't much else to do in a cell, alone with his thoughts.

He hated his thoughts. Most of them consisted of Aaron. How Aaron should have lived, how Tamara had saved Call but not him, how she'd probably only _meant_ to save Aaron. How though he didn't kill Aaron, he really was at fault. If he hadn't been so concerned with keeping his secret, Aaron might be alive, and he might not be imprisoned.

His dreams weren't much better. For the first few minutes they were. Aaron would sit next to him and make a joke, or place a gentle hand on Call's back. Then suddenly he wasn't so solid anymore, and Call was awake.

His only solaces were two-minute bathroom breaks twice a day, and Anastasia's occasional visits. Neither of them were ideal, but they were better than observing the bumps in the wall.

No one but Anastasia came to visit. He wanted to believe they weren't allowed, but it was more likely that they hated him. He wondered what his dad was doing, now completely alone. A dead wife and a son in prison.

And Rufus, with a history of dead and corrupted apprentices, left only with Tamara.

Call would give anything for Aaron to be alive. For him to laugh, to smile, to breathe. Even his own life – _especially_ that. Call considered trying to speak to him with chaos magic, but without his body (Call _really_ didn't want to see that;) and considering the results last time, he didn't bother. Not to mention that these cells were completely magic-proofed.

Call wondered if he would be executed. He'd been in jail for a month, and none of the guards or Anastasia had told him anything. It was pretty likely, but there were probably a lot of legal issues to work out; so Call was left waiting.

There was no how-to for the stages of grief, but he was pretty sure he would never get to acceptance at this rate.

Call shut his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He only wanted to talk to Aaron.

* * *

 **Aaron**

Surprisingly, Alex kept his promise. For a liar, that was impressive – and concerning. He must be confidant in his new abilities to take a gamble like that.

Aaron felt the moment he was free. Drifting, weightless, yet more real. No longer restrained. He somehow felt a pull and followed it, knowing he would find Call.

 _Oh, Call, what happened?_

The last thing he remembered was holding Call's hand and knowing he was about to die. Call didn't come with him, which was lonely, but at least Call was alive. Aaron didn't much care about his own state.

Aaron wasn't really sure what this state was. He could just barely remember Jennifer. (Memories drifted in and out of existence as easily as he did.) Aaron assumed he was sort of like Jennifer, but stronger. Maybe he'd fade as time went by. Maybe only his connection to Call, a Makar, was keeping him in limbo. There was no pain, only a sickening feeling of emptiness and not _belonging_ anywhere.

Anywhere but where Call was.

* * *

 **Call**

Time blurred in his cell, and so did the line between waking and sleeping. All Call knew was that at one point he opened his eyes.

And Aaron was still there.

He would recognize Aaron anywhere. He would never forget his eyes or the way his hair shone in the sun; and he could never erase the memory of his hand in Call's before he died, or the way life left him all at once.

And he remembered seeing Aaron's soul, full of life, bright and real.

This was a painfully dim reflection, but Aaron nonetheless. The life drained, shuddering and not quite solid. There was a sort of black hole where his heart would have been, where the Alkahest had hit. His eyes were bright, burning white, and his hair the color of a blacklight. He looked just like Jennifer's dead soul, only stronger.

Call choked on air and prepared himself for another round of hellish dreams.

" _Call,"_ he said, as though through his dad's old-timey radio. He had a tortured, empty look on his face. So this would be a guilt dream.

Aaron had never spoken in his dreams before, only smiled and gave a rare laugh. Once Aaron took Call's hand, and then, he was gone.

Call tried desperately not to look at him and begged the dream to end. He already felt bad enough.

" _Call."_ The voice pressed on, with an equally desperate and familiar tone. It was how Aaron's voice went when he told Call they would die together.

Call stared at the ceiling as tears stung in his eyes. This one was the worst, because it felt so much more real. He wished he had something to throw.

" _Call."_ Maybe this one was even worse, as the voice softened, and Call hated how it almost managed to completely convince him, " _Can you please look at me?"_

Fed up, Call finally looked. He could never resist Aaron. "You told me we would die together!"

Aaron's face shuddered into an almost-frown. "You shouldn't die."

"You shouldn't either!" Call felt ridiculous, talking to a dream. "You're not here, I know you aren't!"

" _Call, please-"_ Aaron's form drew closer, and suddenly Call was pleasantly several degrees warmer, like being wrapped in an old blanket. He could almost feel Aaron's hand caress his cheek. " _I don't know what I am, but I'm here."_

"No you're not! You're not alive! I just want you to be alive!" Call paused, swallowing. "And that's wrong! I don't want to be like him!"

" _You'll never be-"_

"Get away from me!" Call tried to push Aaron away, but his hands only went through air. "I'm a monster," He mumbled. His voice gave out on him on the final syllable.

" _You're not a monster. You're Call. You're my Call."_

"No I'm not! I'm Constantine." Call stood. "Callum never existed! I killed him and now I killed you!"

Aaron's features fizzled, but Call could still see the pitying frown that Aaron would give him in life when Call said these things. " _You're not Constantine. He never felt guilty like you."_

Call didn't bother to reply, knowing that he would never get very far arguing with Aaron, even in the state he was in. Aaron would give him the look, and Call wouldn't be able to fight. Nobody ever wanted to hurt Aaron.

Or so he thought.

Suddenly the warmth of Aaron's presence went nearly freezing cold, and Aaron's spectre flickered like TV static.

"Aaron?"

" _Aaaaaaaalex is thhhhe monster. Don't fffforget thaaaat."_

"Aaron! Aaron what's happening?"

" _Ssssomeone-coming. Can't stt-tay."_

"Who? Who's coming?"

Aaron tried to open his mouth, but only a low hum escaped. An agonizing sequence of convulsions took over his form, a shriek like microphone interference piercing his ears. Aaron was there one second, and gone the next. Call wasn't sure he'd ever been there at all or if Call had only just woken up. All he knew was that the tears were drying cold on his cheeks.

"Please come back," Call found himself saying to empty air, just before the guard opened his door. It was time for his bathroom break.

The guard said nothing, only glared at him as Call resisted, staring into his cramped cell and begging for any sign Aaron.

 _Please, please be real. I can't handle it if you're not._


End file.
